Spencer's Youngest Brother
by ferret assassin nin
Summary: When the BAU team is called out to Huntington, Indiana, to work a case involving gruesome killings, they find a few new things about their fav. genius and youngest team member, Dr. Spencer Reid. NO PARINGS.
1. Surprise!

_Spencer's Youngest Brother_

**Disclaimer:** This would be an episode if I could make it happen. Sadly, Spencer Reid or any of the other characters don't belong to me.

**Warning:** possible self-mutilation, mention of death, profane language, and gory scenes; Rated M for a reason.

**Quick Note:** Don't know a lot bout Psychology nor am I an expert at Criminology. Might be some ooc-ness, but I'll try to keep to their character as best as I can. Thanks!

**Summary:** When the BAU team is called out to Huntington, Indiana, to work a case involving gruesome killings, they find a few new things about their favorite and youngest team member, Dr. Spencer Reid.

* * *

Chapter 1: Surprise Reunion!

**_Spencer Reid's POV_**

I sit on the plane heading off for Indiana listening to J.J. going over the file for the second time. For some reason, I get this feeling that this particular case is going to get quite out of hand. I'm hoping that I'm wrong about this case though. Despite my genius IQ, I guess there are other things that Morgan likes to bother me about. One of those things is girls; like now. When did J.J.'s re-briefing end?

"Hey, kid, I saw this real hot chick at the theater over the weekend. She's real smart; has an attitude though. I was thinking, since I know her sister, I could-"

"Morgan… how many times do I have to tell you? I can find dates on my own. I don't need you to play match-maker," I half-groan, half-sulk. He laughs at this and goes on to say something, but J.J. interrupts.

"Play nice, boys; don't make me ground you." Morgan and I put on mock expressions of worry and he completes it with, "But, he started it," and points at me where I shake my head. Meanwhile, Hotch comes along and knocks both of us across the head.

"I'll be damned if you two start playing the blame game again." He says it all serious, but we know he's laughing on the inside. Well, at least I know-I think.

Morgan puts his MP3 player back on and listens to it while I look out the window. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me: Doesn't my kid brother live in Huntington, Indiana? Before I can get any further on that thought the plane starts to land. I guess I'll just have to find out.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

**_Carter Reid's POV_**

"…_**and today on the news, the police have released information concerning the Huntington Field Killer who has been dumping bodies near the Wabash river and if anyone has any-" **_I turn off the T.V. and sigh with frustration as I try to figure out my last Trig problem for my math homework. They've been going on about the "Huntington Field Killer" for little more then two months and, quite frankly, I find it annoying. What a name for such a vicious killer; they almost make the guy or it seem so harmless.

I guess it doesn't matter because the reason why I truly know how dangerous the killer is because the police brought me in to ask me a few questions about my reason for walking on the river bank, in the middle of the night, with a standard hunting knife. I told them again and again that I don't know how or why I was out so late on a school night and about the fact that I don't recall having been walking in the first place. Of course, they being the bastards that they are wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. This only caused a misunderstanding among my peers, in Huntington South High, which made a disturbing rumor run around the whole school.

Also, thanks to those damn bastards, neither of my friends nor my peers will look at me and they will only mutter things under their breath when I walk by. Of course, this doesn't bother me at all, but it's as annoying as all hell gets out. That's also the reason why I'm under the threat of being expulsed; my temper had got the better of me and had caused a fight last week between me and Jane Hue, who hates my guts as much as I hate him. Not only this, but also due to my recent obsession over death, murder, and violence; stupid right?

They also want to send me to some damn shrink guy for an evaluation and I told the assistant principle, point blank, "Fuck no, bastard; I don't fucking need a shrink that's more messed up than I am because I'm almost eighteen and there's not a single fucking shit you can do about it." Thus, I got detention for a week with him _and _a warning that he can and _will _expel me for the year if I cause more problems. This is why I'm behaving myself by staying out of trouble and doing all my work without complaint; there's no way in hell I'll mess my chances of going to college, and spend an extra year in my junior class, just because of some 'attitude issues'.

Another thing that has been bothering me recently is the fact that I have this nagging feeling something- or someone- is gonna come in and cause me more issues. I need another coke.

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**_Spencer's POV_**

As we finally reach the Huntington PD I notice two things that seem off about the prescient; 1) only seven detectives are in this area of the PD and, 2) several suspects are leaning against walls or knocking against iron bars-holding cells, if I recall correctly. Neither of these two problems is bothering me as much as the fact that I see someone who looks semi-familiar; someone who looks like my kid brother.

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**_Carter's POV_**

I don't how nor do I know where, but cops started storming my home. They asked if my parents were home and I said, "Hell no; why should they be?" I guess it was my attitude that got me dragged down to the PD because I can't think of anything else I've done to make them arrest me. So, when I look over to see the lead detective, I see my older brother looking at me in confusion; Spencer Reid…genius of the century; me, Carter Reid…kick-ass, sarcastic teen of the decade. Two completely different people tied by blood alone. Won't this be interesting?

"Alright, kid, get movin'. We aint got all day now," the co-head detective says and I sneer at him and shake the cuffs teasingly.

"I'm not going anywhere, bastard," I reply and watch Spence wince making me smirk. "Not until your damn grammar's fixed. Get it right, fucking son of a-"Before I get the chance to finish I feel a shove, hear a door close, reopen, and close again. Knowing where I am, I say, spitefully, "I want a lawyer; a good one too- not one of those cheap-ass half-witted, cocky ones you guys have either." Then, I stay silent smiling to myself with glee.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

**_Spencer's POV_**

I blink a few times behind the window and look towards Hotch who rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. From the time we got here to the time it takes the lead detective to give us the recent file of him is at least three hours. Three hours of nothing but watching the silent teen being questioned and never once speaking; unless cursing and saying, "I want my fucking lawyer" count. Hotch finally gives up and goes in telling the detectives to get out for a while.

"So, what's your name?" He asks; always start with a simple question. Is this even needed?

"Go. To. Fucking. Hell. You. Son. Of. A. Bitch." I watch my kid brother say spitefully and note how he rolls his eyes and says, "I want my lawyer. Now. Please." I finally opt to go in wondering why I ever thought leaving Carter to the social workers was such a brilliant idea. Was he abused?

"Okay, let's try this again. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. You can call me Aaron or Hotch if you prefer." Again, my kid brother just rolls his eyes.

"Alright. So, you're a fed, like my brother and I bet you anything you work with the BAU, like my brother. What do you want with me?"

"The recent killings. Mind telling me what your name is?"

"Nope. Chase Carter; but you can call me CC if you want."

"Which do you prefer?"

"What about you?"

"Hotch."

"Chase." I watch as Hotch nods at this. He glances at the window and I take that as my cue to go in. Doing so, I take note of the sudden surprise on my kid brother's face. It seems like he's never seen me his entire life until now…why did I leave him?

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**_Carter's POV_**

I keep playing 'asshole' with this fed dude until I see my older brother come in. Showing no resignation, however, I go on to say, "Are you the damn shrink? Maybe my much appreciated lawyer? On second thought, you're Dr. Spencer Reid my genius brother who left me to the damn psychos in the social worker offices." I watch with glee as I see my older brother wince. He hasn't been such a high standing figure in my life nor is that going to change anytime soon.

"Carter, your name's Carter Reid; my kid brother," he says quietly taking a seat beside the shocked fed dude-excuse me, Hotch. I sigh pretending to be upset.

"Why the hell do you give a damn?" Again, he winces and I lean back in the chair and go to cross my arms across my chest but suddenly remember I'm cuffed. Damn cops; why do they hate me anyway?

"Why did you lie about your name?" Hotch asks and I shrug my shoulders.

"You're the profiler; you tell me."

"You'd rather be anonymous, right?"

"Wrong; I'd rather not be here and go home to sleep. Did you know I have a test tomorrow in Chemistry; the class I'm failing?"

"You changed the subject; why?" I hear Spence ask and break my well-built walls for a while.

"Do you really think I care whether you view me as guilty or innocent? Quite frankly, the reporters gave the guy a dumb name and I bet you anything he's pissed and looking for blood. You know what they named him?" Before either of them could answer I say, "The Huntington Field Killer; the dumbest name ever since 'boney loon'."

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

**_Spence's POV_**

As Hotch does most of the questioning I notice how my kid brother gets calmer and calmer as the interrogation goes on. I also notice how my kid brother keeps changing the subject from him to things around him. What could this mean? Then, I get baffled when he tells us he doesn't care whether he's guilty or innocent; he just wants to go home and sleep.

"'The Huntington Field Killer'; the dumbest name ever since 'Boney Loon'," he says off-handedly and shows no sign of caring if we're listening to him or not. Why is he so bitter towards everything around him; how did he get to be this way? I think if I can- or if he wants- I'll take him home with me. I feel terrible for leaving him by himself when he probably needed me the most in his life; whenever that was. Then again, he might still need me now. Ultimately, it's his choice...I just hope he doesn't hate me.

"So, Carter, why are you so upset about the names the media gives these killers?" Hotch asks the teen and he shrugs his shoulders.

"I guess it's just the fact that they're looking for respect and no one cares to give them any." That's an interesting reply. Is he the killer himself? I shouldn't even be questioning my brother in the first place. How can I remain objective now?

"How do you know that they're looking for respect, Cater?" I ask and again he shrugs his shoulders carelessly. Well, I can get through this by treating him normally; like I don't even know him. Actually, that's easier then saying I do because I really don't know him at all; minus the superficial things.

"I would pin it on how shitty their lives are. I mean, the only logical reason serial killers kill so much is because they want attention; not negative, necessarily, but respective. Think about it. How do you think they grew up to be that way in the first place? Aren't nine times out of ten serial killers more likely to have been abused and lost their self-worth? It's kinda sad when you think about it, right?" I guess it's a good thing that he's talking now. I still don't understand if he's hiding something or just talking because he can. Also, how has he become such an expert at profiling?

"Heh," we look at him with curiosity. "Can I go now? I want to sleep so I can try to pass my Chem. test tomorrow." Before either of us can say anything, the head detective comes in and glares at my kid brother.

"Listen brat, just because you're almost eighteen doesn't give you the right to up and leave." I'm about to stand up and defend my brother, but something tells me to stay here and not interfere.

"Listen donut, just because I'm not eighteen yet doesn't give you the right to say I don't know my own rights. If you have nothing legit on me-which you don't-I can leave whenever the hell I want to."

"Why is this?"

"Don't know, donut, figure it out for yourself. I'm tired," he says and walks out without saying anything else. "Oh, and before I leave, do you mind un-cuffing me? I wouldn't normally ask, but hand cuffs are hard to sleep in, don't you think?" As the detective calls the police officer in the detective announces something in a threatening tone.

"Don't you think this is far from over, brat. Greg, escort him out of here and drive him home."

"Who said I wanted it to be over? Same time tomorrow, then?"

"Get him out of my site," the detective says in a disgusted manner and Hotch and I look at each other. Is _he _the serial killer?

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**_Carter's POV_**

I shrug my shoulders in return to the questions Hotch and my bro ask me. I'm not the killer, obviously, but why not play with them a little? I mean, they are profilers and they are more then capable to figure things out on their own. Of course, they're not nearly as fun to tease as donut dude. Now talk about funny; I don't think there are many people that turn pinkish-purple when they get angry. He almost looks like a prune. The key word being _almost_; he's not wrinkly at all, just that kind of color. However, it would be funny if he was old and had wrinkles. Maybe he uses Botox® injections to make the appearance of being young. Whatever the case, I like these two profilers; they're level headed.

"So, Carter, why are you so upset over these names that the media are giving these killers," again I shrug my shoulders in reply to Hotch's question.

"They deserve more respect then people give them."

"Why do you think they're looking for respect, Carter?"

"Well, if you look at it from their shoes, aren't most of them abused and looking for respect to rebuild their knocked down self-esteem? I know I would; if I was one of them, I mean." I smile in return to their inquiring looks.

I really am getting tired and would like to sleep; I might go to school tomorrow, but…if I'm too tired, then I'll skip and catch up on some quality Zs'. It's then that I remember I have a Chemistry test to knock out of the way. I inwardly sigh at the fact that I'm gonna fail because of how tired I'll be.

"Can I go home now? I'd like to sleep since I have a Chem. test to take care of tomorrow. I don't wanna fail it," I say apologetically. After all, I really want to keep talking to these profilers; particularly my older brother who I haven't seen since ages. However, donut bastard comes in and spoils my fun.

"You have no right to leave this station, brat."

"You have no right to hold me here, donut. I know my rights; if you don't have anything legit on me-which I know you don't-I can leave whenever I want to. Oh, and before I leave, do you mind taking these cuffs off? I think sleeping will be a bit painful otherwise, don't you?" He glares at me and I smile kindly in return as he calls in the big officer dude, Greg, to un-cuff me and take me home. Usually at this point I would be cursing and all at them, but there's no point in wasting precious energy.

Funny; I was angry when I first got here, but when I talked to the profilers, I feel really calm and almost happy. Again, _almost _being the key word here; who would be happy when they're innocent, know they're innocent, and is still accused of murder for no specific reason? I think the only shrink I'll be talking to is a profiler. They understand me-I think they do anyway. Oh well, time for sleep!

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**_Spence's POV_**

As Hotch and I watch him leave with the officer we exit the room and go to the rest of the team that's waiting behind the window. Morgan, being the first one closet to the door, jumps me.

"Man, Reid, why didn't you tell me you had a kid brother? A bit of an attitude problem, but I guess it comes with the age, right?" I inwardly groan at this but smile all the same.

"I didn't think he would end up in an interrogation room inside the PD. I think he misses me." J.J. looks at me skeptically.

"Are you sure, Spence? I mean, he's a good kid and all, but don't you think he's more interested in sleeping then anything else?"

"Well, actually, I think he really does miss Reid," Hotch says and everyone looks at him.

"Why? He didn't look sad to me." Morgan supplies and Hotch goes on.

"At first, when I was in there, he didn't say anything and kept glaring daggers at me. When Reid came in, he smiled briefly and started talking to us. Also, when Reid said what his real name was, he seemed to relax immediately and drop his defensive walls. Maybe you and Reid should keep an eye on Carter for the night. I'm not sure how calm he'll remain." Morgan and I nod at this and Emily asks a question.

"Okay, if Reid's kid brother really is the killer, then why wasn't he more defensive? Also, how could he remain so calm when you guys asked him those questions?"

"Seventeen percent of all petty killers remain calm when being asked questions to decrease suspicion. For them to be defensive would mean the police suspecting them. Of course, if they're not killers to being with, then there's no reason for them to be defensive to begin with. Thus, the statistic doesn't apply to them." Damn it! Well, I guess that statistic proves I'm objective; then again, I've always had an afinity for numbers and precentages.

"Thanks for the info, Reid. Let's go baby sit your kid bro." Morgan says with laughter in his voice and I follow him out to the parking lot and into the black car. _So, my kid brother really hasn't change so much, has he? _

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**Author's Note: Did you know 95% of all statistics are made up on the spot? And only 5% have valid facts to back them up? Why did I tell you this? I thought you'd like some good, but true, humor. XD Credit to my friend Sky who told me about that. ^^ **

**Anyway, how do you like this story so far? Should I continue it? My first published Criminal Minds fic! ^^ Review, please!**

**ferret nin**


	2. Grin or Grim?

_Spencer's Youngest Brother_

_Warning: Cursing, possible self-mutilation, gory scenes, and implied child abuse. Still rated M._

_Summary: Refer to last chapter. _

* * *

_Chapter 2: Grim Discoveries (w/ two bonus surprises!)_

**Carter's POV**

Once the officer drops me off at home, I unlock the front door and head inside making sure to lock the doors and windows. I'm not afraid of the dark or anything, but I just don't like being by myself often. With my memory problem and frequent black outs, I can't trust myself with being alone. That is what scares me the worse; I'm going to go to college soon, but if I don't get this under control, how can I even think about living on campus? It would make sense if I was the killer the whole time…but, I'm not in the least bit violent. I need another coke.

Getting my coke and pulling out my chemistry stuff I open my book and look over chapters five and six. I even go as far as to study the notes thoroughly until I can remember every single detail about atoms and nuclear fusion and fission and all that mess. Then, just to be sure of myself, I read over both chapters fully and, once done, I down my coke and mentally pat myself on my back. 'Well done, Chase; you'll pass after all, sleep or no sleep.' I head back into the kitchen to grab a snack, another coke, and my sleeping pills. Sadly, I also have insomnia. The shrink of mine hasn't been able to figure why this is.

I head upstairs into my room and pull out my laptop. Then, before I do anything else, I head to google to look up 'insomnia and black outs' just to see if I can find any more info on the subject. Unknowing to my parents, who are complete asses, I have a project due in health within the next week: mental disorders and how to over come them. With all the reading on psychology I've done and am still doing, it's no wonder I can make a good profiler. This also makes me wonder why I'm still caught in this hell-hole I call a home.

"Carter Carson Hugh, get down here now!" Speaking of which, looks like my parents are home. I slam my door shut and turn up my techno music.

"Boy, if you don't get down here, right now, you'll regret!" My dad, who likes to threaten me whenever he gets the chance, warns but I ignore it. Seriously, he has done everything he can to make my life hell; force me to go to shrinks, force me to go to sporting events, tell me to stay up all night and study the bible with him when he knows I have an important test in school the next day…and that's just the start.

As if my life with this family isn't enough, I get beat up at school constantly, thanks to the rumors everyone's spread around, and I can't defend myself because I'll be expelled again for fighting on school grounds…I don't think there's anything more that can scare me.

"Don't worry dad, mom, I'll get Carter down here." That's my older sister who sucks up to mom and dad and beats me at everything; from academics to sports. No matter what I do, I'm always walking in the shadows of her; never being able to catch up with her. Sometimes I wonder why I haven't killed myself yet. I seriously need to get out of here.

I hear footsteps come up the stairs and I start packing my school book bag full of clothes and stuff money in every crevice of it I can before finally opening the window in my room, climbing down the balcony pole, and landing in the mud. I guess it was a good thing I have my tennis shoes on. Looks like I'm going to be a runaway for now on; not a bad life, I guess.

* * *

**Reid's POV**

We pull up to Carter's house around the same time he starts locking all the doors and windows. It's hard to see from where we are, but I think he's really studying. Not much time goes by before he disappears upstairs and we see another car pull up. The people who get out consist of two women with blonde hair and a muscular man with sandy blonde hair.

"Reid," Morgan says pointing to the upstairs window. "Look at the kid, he doesn't look happy." I look up to where Morgan is pointing and I see him turn something up. I guess it was his stereo because I hear, and feel, the techno music blasting from the house.

"That explains the attitude, huh?" I just nod my head shortly and ask to borrow the binoculars. Morgan hands them over and I see him shout something before throwing all sorts of items around his room into a tattered book bag. I really wanted to correct Morgan that peoples' attitudes have nothing to do with the sort of music they listen to, but the fear my kid brother is about to run off prevents that.

"Morgan, I think he's planning on leaving…" We're silent as we watch Carter open a window and disappear. "Morgan…."

"Yeah, Reid, I know; let's get ready to move." Before long, I see my kid brother sneak around the house with dirt all over him and cross the street. "Let's go," is all I say and we head off to catch up Carter. 'God…please don't do anything dangerous, Carter, please….'

* * *

**Carter's POV**

I sneak around the house and get this strange feeling I'm being followed. However, I shake it off and keep moving up the sidewalk trying to get as far away from the house as possible. I can't go back there now…my foster father will be pissed and ready to kill; literally. I have a suspicion that it's donut dude's minions following me so I pick up my pace to a full on run. After all, donut dude and his minions are all not athletic.

I hear car doors slam shut, someone shouting my name, and footfalls picking up pace. Good thing I run cross country; the only thing sports-wise I'm good at and the one thing my father calls a "princess' sport". I may have said my dad forces me to sporting events, like football games, but it doesn't mean I don't love running; great way to blow off steam and my shrink told me that it would do me some good to release my anger in something more healthy than fighting. But, of course, where's the fun in that?

I fall off the sidewalk and head up into the woods following an old, dirt path picking up my speed when I hear the shouts getting closer. I recognize the voice, but I can't pin whose shouting. They said on the news that this killer picks up runaway teens, particularly athletic boys, tortures them and then kills them. But, wasn't he by himself? I don't recall them talking about him having a partner. Also, how would the killer know my name if he's never met me? I know it's definitely not donut dude's minions because they're—there are now two voices shouting my name, one familiar another not so much—keeping pace with me; not falling way behind like his minions would.

I can smell the sweat rolling off my body and hear the footfalls get ten feet away from me. It's then I realize where this path leads; a kids' park and elementary school. I can lose them in the kids' park by going in behind the elm school and hiding in that small crevice the kids' call 'hide-and-peak'. My day's gotten ten times better than it was. However, before I can make it to the school, I have to get through all of the debris in my way and duck under drooping branches that are wet with water.

I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere or fell off the path because I reach this empty meadow with a rushing river on one side and a steep cliff on the other. Damn it! Is all I can manage at this point because the two people following me finally catch up and draw out their guns; aimed right at me and right at my heart. This causes a single sweat drop trail down from my forehead, touch the very corner of my left eye, and fall down my cheek into the collar of my sweatshirt. They must think I have a weapon on my person or something because they approach me cautiously. Then, as the crescent moon comes back into view, I see the faces of my pursuers; Reid and some black dude. Despite the urge to run from them, I stay where I am and start thinking up of a good excuse for running. Until then, I'll have to stall them.

* * *

**Reid's POV **

We finally catch up to my kid brother, watch as he looks to either side of him, and notice how he focuses on the cliff a second longer. Is he suicidal? That's the first thing that comes to mind as Morgan and I draw closer to him; slowly, in case he has a weapon on him, like a gun. Does he have a weapon poised and ready to use? I ask myself as I see him look at us with a blank expression and we still edge closer. Then, once we get within twelve feet of him, I see him make a final decision to stay and he looks to be thinking of something. Seeing as to how he isn't going to run anymore, Morgan and I lower our guns to try to make him feel less frightened. However, I think it's a bit too late now.

"Carter-"

"Chase; my name's Chase!" He shouts angrily at Morgan and me. He didn't seem to be bothered by being called Carter earlier, so why now?

"Okay, Chase, calm down. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan and do you mind me asking why you were running away from home?" Morgan asks and he remains silent. I take a guess at why he did.

"Needed some fresh air?" He still remains quiet and I notice something silver in his left hand. I point it out to Morgan and he nods his head. Morgan puts his gun away slowly and then brings his hands up, at the same pace, in a surrendering gesture; showing that he doesn't have a weapon.

"We just want to talk, Chase; that's all," he tries but my kid brother shouts again.

"Liars! Get the hell away from me!" We back up a few feet, but Carter lifts the object in his hand; a hunting knife. Isn't that what got him into trouble with the police to begin with?

"Okay. Chase, my partner's going to put away the guns. If you lay the knife down, we'll all walk away from this unharmed." Morgan tries again with no anvil. I slowly put my gun in its holster and hold my hands up in a surrendering gesture as well; never breaking eye contact with Carter or the knife. I watch as Cater lifts the knife over his head in a striking position.

"Fuck off!" Morgan and I share a glance of worry and back away a little further before turning our attention back on Cater. This time I speak up.

"Chase, put down the knife, please," and I see him waver for a minute but then tighten the grip on the handle.

"Say I drop the knife; then what?" I glance at Morgan and he nods as we slowly move our hands near our guns' holsters.

"We take you back to the house-," Morgan attempts but is quickly intervened by Carter again.

"No. I'm not going back there." That's a definite statement allowing no argument. With this new information, I take a swing at negotiating, but I'm sure Morgan's much better at it then I am since I seem to make him even more agitated then calm.

"We'll take you to the PD-"

"Fuck that."

"Where do you want us to take you?" Morgan tries in an even tone with a calm expression.

"………" He doesn't say anything for a while but finally opts to put the knife away. As we move in, he simply says, "I don't care…just not back home; please." At this very quiet request, we look at each other in confusion. What the hell is going on in that house? More importantly, what the hell is Carter playing at?

* * *

**Carter's POV**

I take a few deep breaths and concentrate on what Morgan is saying. There are several buzzing sounds going off in my head making it all the more harder to focus. Did I remember to take my medicine tonight? If not, then I'm about to have one hell of a migraine. I tell them both to back off so I can think and they do. I pull out my hunting knife from the top of my book bag and hold it at an angle from my left leg.

"We just want to talk, Chase, that's all." I get suspicious and tighten my grip on the knife.

"Please put the knife down, Chase." I don't have the knife up; I know I don't. It's beside my leg; they're trying to trick me.

"Fuck off! Both of you," I add on to make sure they don't get any closer to me or make an attempt to. My mind goes blank for a while until something tells me to lower the knife which I do so.

"We take you back to the house-"

"No! Don't even think about it!" The heck is going on right now? I didn't ask a question, did I? I must have because I answered the half-statement.

"We'll take you to the PD-"

"Screw you!" I reply trying to fight control over my emotions at the moment. Should I cry, should I scream, should I just yell and run off and pretend none of this ever happened? Should I just off myself now and save me the misery of all this righteous mess I've gotten myself into?

"Where do you want us to take you?" I finally gain control over my body again and manage a small smile of relief at being able to stop the migraine _and_ put the knife away. They get closer to me, but I don't care about that. I'm just tired and want to go to bed. Its then, when I feel a strong and comforting hand on my shoulder, do I remember the question one of them asked me.

"I don't care," I say wondering if they've already forgotten about the question. "Just don't take me home." _My dad won't be happy at all._ I add on silently as I let them walk me from the field, to the woods, to the side walk, to the car, and finally, into the car. As the car starts moving, I doze off not being able to stay awake any longer.

* * *

**Reid's POV**

I opt to sit in the passenger seat of the car and turn to look behind me to see Carter sleeping peacefully.

"Reid, we can't take the kid home and he doesn't want to go to the PD; use that brain of yours and figure something out." I'm already working on it trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something bad is going on inside that house. Finally, with one last glance to make sure my kid brother is sleeping, I come to a solid option; our only option.

"We take him to the police department, tell Hotch what happened, and figure out what to do next." I pull my eyes from Carter and stare straight ahead of me.

"Okay. Do you think he'll be alright? I mean, shouldn't we at least make sure he doesn't have anymore weapons on him?" As I'm thinking this over, I notice Morgan look in the rearview mirror and glance at Cater.

"I don't know. But, Morgan, we need to get him away from that place before he does something extremely reckless. Stoplight," I add on dryly and Morgan turns his attention back to the road, curses a word that would make even the toughest sailor blush, and yet still manages to come to a smooth stop despite the abrupt statement. He leans back in the seat and readjusts his hand positions.

"What do you think is going on in there?"

"I…I think he's being abused." Morgan looks at me sharply with a worried glance, looks back at Carter who's still sleeping, and turns his attention back to the road as the stoplight turns green.

"In which way; physical, mental, emotional?" I tear my gaze from Carter and look back at Morgan. It's then that I see his lips pressed into a thin line and his grip on the steering wheel tighten to the point of his knuckles turning white; definite anger.

"Dunno. You're gonna want to take the next exit off this road." He does so and I spare another look at my brother; his clothes have hardly any dirt on them and his hair's sopping wet and plastered against his face.

"So, changing the subject, do you think Hotch has been acting strange?"

"We're not supposed to profile the team, Morgan."

"I know; I'm not, I'm just wondering if you've noticed it or not."

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Kid, you can't take a joke, can ya?" He smiles at this and I just roll my eyes. Wait, why did he suddenly change the subject? Does it have something to do with the fact that Carter might be being abused?

"Huh?"

"I mean, every time someone makes a joke--mostly me--you add in the real facts."

"That's not true." He looks at me with a 'yeah, right' look. "Okay, I don't do that _all _the time." He rolls his eyes and smiles. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. "And I'm not a kid!" Then again, I'm acting like one, huh? Will he ever stop teasing me? Despite my despair and complaint I find myself smiling in content. I'd rather see Morgan happy, not angry.

* * *

**Carter's POV**

I continue to pretend to be asleep while I listen to the conversation between Morgan and Reid. I get a bit anxious about the fact that they're trying to analyze my behavior. I don't like it when people pry into my personal life. More importantly, why did they bother to ask me where I wanted to go? Why do they even care about the fact that I was running away from home to begin with? I know they don't care that much about me; especially my brother--or do they?

"He's being abused."

"Mental, physical, or emotional?"

"I don't know. Take the next exit."

"You think Hotch's been acting strange?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Can't take a joke, can ya?"

"Yes, I can."

Nothing more is said between the two for the rest of the drive until we reach the police department. Why did they bring me here? I knew they didn't care about my opinion. I'm not going in there. I won't.

"'Kay kid, we're here." Regardless of my awareness, I have to pretend I don't know anything.

"Mmm….where?" I fake a yawn and stretch as I straighten in my seat. It just occurred to me; did I remember to put on my seatbelt? But, if I didn't remember to, why didn't they bother me about it?

"The police department," before I can stop myself, spiteful words come out.

"What the hell?"

"It's better than taking you home, right?" Reid asks in a rhetorical way as he turns in the seat, after unbuckling his self, and looks at me with…how do you describe that look?

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks." I say remembering they're not the enemy and they did listen to my request of not taking me home. I'm seriously tired right now and could use a good burst of caffeine; particularly a coke.

"Kid, tell me, why did you run off like that? With a killer out, don't you think that's a bit reckless?" Not understanding whether or not this is or isn't a rhetorical question, I choose to reply with sarcasm.

"Oh no, not at all! I don't care about the killer. Let him or her or it, for that matter, kill me. I'll haunt them for the rest of their sick lives." I reply and see them look at me in a strange way. "What? Can't take a joke?" They both smile unsurely and leave the car and I follow them to the building I've come to hate.

* * *

**Reid's POV**

When we finally reach the department Morgan wakes up Carter and I catch a strange look in his grey-brown eyes; I can't place it, however.

"Why are we here?" Seeing a fight rising from that statement I say something before Morgan can.

"It's better than taking you home, right?" I wish I could take him to the hotel the team's staying at, but it's not possible right now. That strange look comes back in his eyes as he talks again.

"Yeah, I guess; thanks." Even though Carter says this dejectedly, we still hear the sincerity in it. I take it this is a good sign so far. But, what is that strange look? Morgan's voice pulls me from my ravine. I know I've seen that look somewhere, but I just can't place it right now. Why?

"Carter," we wait a second to see if he would yell at us again, and he doesn't, but he still has that strange look in his eyes. This makes us even more confused, but we don't bother with asking more questions than necessary at the moment; he needs a break from questioning. "Why did you run off? With a killer out and everything, it's a bit reckless right?"

"Tsch! Not at all, man! I don't care 'bout all this mess. Let him or her or it--for that matter--kill me for all I care! I'll just haunt them for the rest of their shitty lives!" I notice the odd look vanish and come back again, but I just shrug it off. "What? Can't take a joke?" We smile unsurely not quite understanding his meaning behind those words.

* * *

**Carter's POV**

After that little spectacle we all leave the car and Morgan locks it as my brother and I wait for him. Once he comes around the car, we all head into the main doors of the Huntington PD. This makes me wonder if the lead detective is still here or if he's out eating donuts again.

Instead, I see the whole BAU squad and notice how they scrutinize me. I wouldn't blame them with the way I'm dressed; burgundy plaid pajama bottoms, a black beanie with red, white, and grey outlining, and a plain, blood-red, long-sleeved sweatshirt. My shoes have white skulls on the front with grey, red, and white paint splatters across them and the laces are a pitch black color with tiny skulls imprinted on the plastic ends. Simple and elaborate in one get up; my personal style. I wish I could say the same thing about my hair. I'm thinking about dying it black and putting white streaks through it, once it grazes my shoulders again, of course. I wonder how that will look on me then; golden brown hair cut just under my ears all grown out and dyed. My parents' worse nightmare's yet to come!

It's just now that I notice how that blonde girl looks at me with sympathy--I think--and get irked. I don't need someone's pity or any understanding. I just want to sleep. Oh, and to stay the hell away from that home for a while. Is that too much to ask for? Maybe even just to crash at Quintie's place for a few days with no penalties? I guess so. His real name's Quinton Garcia Lupas, but everyone calls him Quintie since he likes that name better; big surprise there!

"Morgan, Reid, what's Carter doing here?" Hotch asks and I smile and even go as far as to wave 'hi' to the dude.

"It's Chase, sir. I'd prefer Chase."

"You didn't have an issue with Carter before." A much older looking agent than Hotch with grey and black hair and heavy stubble ask.

"True, but minds change, right? Never stable, minds, I mean," I say and smile taking note of how everyone gives me strange looks that I don't have the energy to comprehend. Suddenly, to dampen my pleasant mood, the lead detective comes loping in with a smirk plastered across his face. So, to throw him off guard, I bombard him with a sudden introduction full of hyper energy.

"DONUT DUDE! Yo! How's the case and all? Man, I thought I could take some of your donuts while you were gone, but then I thought, nah, I'll just get yelled at; again. How's life man? Cool, right?" I watch him fume and I chuckle in the back of my throat. I hear someone clear their throat and I look over to see its Hotch. Hm…maybe I should go ahead and be hyper; see how many people I shock and scare.

"Do you know Lt. Marsh, Chase?"

"Yeah, I do Fed man--I mean Hotch. We go way back! Like, I think all the way back to the beginning of all time--or something close!"

"Are you on something?"

"Huh? No. Wait, does life count?" I notice how all of them blink and then I see why the lead detective's smirking at me and not yelling instead; it's my sis, mom, and dad gliding their way over here. Well, my mom and sis are gliding their way over while my dad is thundering. "Uhm….I, uh…have to go somewhere for a, uhm…quick while; yeah." I say bitterly, all hyper energy lost, and dart to the bathroom and lock myself in a stall trying to steady my racing mind. Am I crying? I have to ask myself to believe the wetness I feel on my face; but the wetness says it all. Christ, what the hell is wrong with me!?

* * *

**Reid's POV**

After Morgan locks the car I begin to wonder what's going through Carter's mind at the moment. He still has that unreadable look in his eyes; crazed, maybe? It's then I notice something I thought I wouldn't see in Carter; vulnerability. That must be the strange look; dad had it before he left, mom had it when I told her I was sending her away, Tobias---I shake my head to clear out all the old, and painful, memories.

Once we make it inside the PD and into the main area of it Morgan and I notice that Hotch and the team are already here. Did something happen? I also notice how they work on analyzing Carter's personality. I don't think this will go over well.

A minute of complete silence falls and then Hotch breaks it with a question. "Morgan, Reid, what's Carter doing here?" Before we can explain, however, Carter interrupts.

"It's Chase, sir." Morgan and I see the confusion on Rossi's face.

"You didn't have an issue with Carter before."

"Minds change, right? Minds are never stable, you know?" We all give 'Chase' strange looks with Morgan's border lining on comical and freaked. Then Chase's body language changes from somewhat relaxed to stiff and reserved and that strange look comes back into his eyes, only briefly, however, as it goes away to be replaced by…happiness? Is this real or fake?

"DONUT DUDE! Sup? How's the case going? I thought I could take some donuts from your office or something, but then I thought, no, I'll get yelled at; again. How's life man? It's alright, right?" I see Hotch's face light up in slight amusement at the detective's murderous face; and here I thought Carter would break out into a line of profanities. Does this mean he's on something? If so, is it a script or is it recreational?

"Chase, you know the lead detective, Lt. Marsh?" Hotch asks my kid brother and he smiles even more and a childish demeanor comes around him.

"Yeah, I do Fed man- I mean, Hotch! We go way back--the dawn of time back!" I notice how Hotch starts to reevaluate Carter.

"Are you on something?" His face becomes serious and I notice the detective smirking in Carter's direction.

"No, unless life counts, of course," all of us, including Lt. Marsh, blink in confusion at this. Then, when I next look back at Carter his body language screams utter terror and I try to find the source of it.

"I, uhm, gotta go somewhere for a bit," I hear him mumble dejectedly and Morgan and I look at him run frantically to the bathroom. I look for the source of his fear with renewed vigor only finding the two blonde women and muscular man with sandy blonde hair and a tattoo of a rose on his right arm walking this way. _That's his foster family? Is that what he's afraid of? _I think to myself and decide to head to the bathroom to retrieve my kid brother and possibly find some answers to a few questions I have.

* * *

**Dang! Wasn't expecting that! So, whatcha think of the second chap? Is it still worth continuing? I wasn't even expecting to have anything hyper in this, so that was a surprise on my part. I don't know about you guys. I didn't scare ya off did I? **

**Just a quick note, Carter's going to be referring to himself as Chase for a while. I think everyone else will just call him Carter. It depends on what those little imps' voices in my mind say. Oh, and your opinion, of course! ^^ Please do leave reviews!**

**Carter: You made me look like a fool!**

**ferret nin: Yea, and? :P**

**Carter: …..**

**ferret nin: That's what I thought! Ha!**

**Reid: *looks at blank script* So….I'm going to be doing, what, exactly?**

**ferret nin: ^^; uh….protecting your kid bro!**

**J.J.: That's so sweet!**

**Carter: uhm….I'm not a kid.**

**ferret nin: The imps tell me differently! So, ha! Deal with it!**

**Everyone minus ferret nin: ……o_o;**

**ferret nin: Hey! Don't diss the little imps! _#**

_Note: I'm hyped on sugar if you're wondering why I sound like this!!!!!!!!!! I blame imps!!!_

Honestly, I'm not scaring anyone, right? ^w^

_With care,_

**ferret nin **


	3. Diversion Tatics

Spencer's Youngest Brother

Disclaimer: still the same.

Warning: slightly more swearing, mentioned abuse, and slight- very slight- insanity.

Summary: the same

Chapter 3: Diversion Tactics

**Carter's POV**

As I'm playing hide and seek in the bathroom with my mind I hear the door creak open and calm footsteps make their way in. I think there are two people walking in, but I can't tell. The tears have mostly dried up, but I'm still not coming out of this stall. Not after seeing how pissed my dad was. If I could, I wanted to die right there. As I already know, whatever the hell is about to happen isn't going to be amusing.

"Chase? Are you in here?" The voice is my brother's but I'm not talking right now. Especially to the people who brought me to the police station in the first place.

"Reid, face it; he's not going to talk." This second and more laid-back voice belongs to Morgan, but as he's already concluded, despite my like for him, I'm not answering anytime soon. At least, that's what I believe, but I've been wrong before about myself, so why would this be any different?

"I know, I just…I don't know. I want to protect him, but I can't. I don't understand why I can't just take him with me to the hotel. But then I realize, no, I can't do that, because I can't be emotionally involved in the case and I….don't feel confidant enough that I can handle him. Besides, even if I do take him in, then what; let's not forget how much trouble he causes. So, the question will then become, will he even be grateful? Morgan, there's too many risks involved."

He just said there's a chance he'll take me in? Why would he care now? But, if he didn't even care to begin with, why does he sound so unsure and confused and…remorseful? _Okay, it's decided; I'm not going to be an ass anymore. Well, at least not to Spence; everyone else is fair game._ _I mean, I gotta keep up appearances, right? _I tell myself before unlocking the door and coming out. I'll show Spence that I'm not that difficult and I can be enough of an adult to take care of myself…and not get into so much trouble all the time.

"I'm right here. Don't talk as if I'm not." I notice how they both look in the direction my voice comes from and frown upon seeing me. I must look like some deranged lunatic by now. Hair messed up, beanie tilted to one side, extremely pale skin, twitchy limbs, dull brown eyes, and tear streaks. Oh yeah, let's not forget about the whole 'hyper-one-minute, sulky-the-next' thing.

"Fair enough, Chase. Do you mind joining Reid and me with the rest of the team," Morgan asks gently and I'm instantly cautious.

"Will my family be there?"

"There's a likely chance. You don't like them?" Spence inquires and I don't give any response to the question. To be honest, I don't know what to think of them. Neither of them asks me anymore questions and I feel them watch me leave the bathroom making me wonder, _was there some hope in his voice that I would come live with him if he asked if I didn't like my family? Or, better yet and most important, do I have something on my back? _

**Spencer's POV**

We watch as Carter leaves from the bathroom and I can't help but stop Morgan before he walks out the door as well.

"Do you think something was off with Carter?" Morgan looks at me and a frown forms on his face.

"He sounds frustrated or put-out; maybe both," he says this with so much uncertainty and hesitation in his voice that it makes me instantly wonder if he's hiding something from me; like he's telling a white lie to make me feel better, but, he doesn't look to be lying at all.

"Should we tell Hotch?"

"Yeah, I'd think it best." After confirming our next action, we go to leave the bathroom and as we do I catch my reflection in the mirror. All I can think when I see it is, _my hair has really gotten long._

As we exit the bathroom we hear yelling and glass breaking before looking around at a few edgy police officers but none of them seem to be making a move to do anything about it. So, Morgan and I follow the storming lead detective to interrogation room B and I get the feeling that Carter has done something terrible. If the murderous look on the detective's face is anything to go by.

Morgan and I see Rossi leave the interrogation room and stand with us behind the window. Where, as I've just noticed, he seems flustered but strangely calm. Meanwhile, Hotch tries to calm Carter, but with no anvil.

"Rossi, what the hell is goin' on in there?" Morgan asks in an urgent and concerned voice.

"It seems that I have upset Carter—or, Chase as he prefers—by asking him about his family life. I backed off immediately, but then 'Chase' turns around and starts throwing anything and everything in his reach at Hotch and I. Also, his father is in there." Morgan and I instantly cease our motions and I hear Morgan intake a deep breath.

"Rossi," he turns back from the havoc my little brother is causing. "Did you know that he most likely hates his family? The family he's with now?" Morgan adds on to make sure he's on the same page as us.

"He does? He didn't seem bothered when we brought up his mother and older sister; more bitter than aggressive. But, when Hotch and I brought up his father, he tensed. I think what I said pushed him over the edge, though." Morgan, after opening his eyes, looks at Rossi with a 'the hell' look.

"Rossi, what did you say to him?" We're both taken back by Morgan's sudden aggression. I see Rossi immediately go on the defensive.

"All I said was that I believed he hates his father. Then, his father comes in, shouts at 'Chase', and then World War III happens. Speaking of which, the father's leaving."

"I'll talk to him," I offer and then chase Carter's father out the door.

**Carter's POV**

"Chase, why do you hate your family?" Man, Hotch has got to be kidding me. There is no fucking way he just asked me that question. Who wouldn't hate the 'most happy and perfect little elite family' out there? Oh no, definitely not someone who's basically shunned from his _real _family.

"They're not my real family."

"So, you hate them only because they're not your real family? Does that mean you hate everyone else then?" Rossi asks me this and I down-right glare at him.

"Isn't that what I just said? And, no, I don't 'hate everyone else' who isn't my real family. I have friends you know; extremely close, mind," I add on for greater emphasis. Of course I know now isn't the time to be sarcastic and that they're just asking a few questions so they can at least get to know me a bit better and help me out, but how else am I supposed to retaliate? Cry my soul out? I mean, I've done enough of that in my lifetime, particularly in the bathroom a few minutes ago.

"Chase, please, we just want to figure this out," Hotch says in that irking calm voice of his; so reassured and confident of himself. _I knew it. I was right; for once._ I mutter to myself in the back of my head.

"Figure what out? How I treat my family? If you want to know that so badly, then you're just wasting your time. I treat them with love and care, but what do I get in return? Nothing, absolutely nothing. You want to know why? They never cared about me; ever."

"Chase, do you hate your _father_?" Rossi asks and I immediately tense.

"Why do _you _care?" I notice how they shift in their seats uneasily. What is going on inside their heads? Do they think I'm going to actually _hurt _them? I don't sound _that _aggressive and defensive, do I? Just then, the door to the interrogation room bursts open making me jump out of my seat; literally.

"Is that what you think of us, you ungrateful little brat!? You think that we've never cared for you like you aren't our own son!? Is that what you think!?" I spring from the floor after hearing 'daddy dearest' shout at me and immediately get ready to punch the living shit out of him.

"No, I don't think that. I know you take care of me. I mean, it's every parents' mortal duty, right," I drip everything I say in sarcasm and then my dad does the last thing that pisses me off to the extreme; treat me like a kid. In his defense, he hates sarcasm; especially from the 'ungrateful little brat'. Which, I guess, would explain why he treats me like a kid; aren't kids usually sarcastic?

"_Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me, boy!! You hear me!??_"

"FUCK YOU BASTARD!!!" My voice changes from bored and agitated to down right pissed.

"Wait a minute! Both of you calm down right now!" I hear a distant voice say that sounds a lot like Hotch's but I don't care to pay much attention to it. All I can see is my bastard of a father standing right in front of me scrutinizing every aspect of his failure of a son. Not caring for what consequences will follow, I jump on my father and start beating him up. I take every single little punch and kick he throws at me and return it tenfold. However, it's not long before our little 'play fight' is interrupted.

I feel strong arms grab around me, as my dad attempts to kick me in my gut, pulling me away from the fight and making the urge to beat the living shit out of my dad all the more strong. I also notice my dad being pulled away by another pair of arms. Wriggling to escape the grasp, which only gets tighter, I realize it's no use and decide to back off. Harsh words are said into my ears, but they don't register.

Finally, as my dad realizes that we can't use physical attacks anymore, he retaliates by verbal attacks; which, in retrospect, causes me to respond in a less angry, but bitter tone of voice.

"You _little ungrateful monster!! Don't you see how hard my wife, daughter, and I work just to force you to keep your grades up to a C-average!? WELL DON'T YOU!!!!!!????" _I wriggle my arm out and flick the dick off. If only he knew what his daughter gets up to; then he wouldn't compare her to me, ever.

"I've _never_ belonged to _your_ little _happy and perfect family_ to begin with!! Why didn't you just _dump_ me on the streets years ago? When I was so _vulnerable_? When I didn't know what to do with myself or how to handle my _hell_ of a life? How about explaining that? Oh, wait, you can't because you want to be the _star example_ of a _'father figure'_, right? Well, I have news for you, _Mr. Hugh_: I'll never be the _perfect little son_ you always wanted!!! I can't be two different people for the _sake _of a family that doesn't even _want_ me around!!" I say the last few lines with so much force that my dad doesn't even say a single thing. He's still steaming, of course, but he's not saying a single thing nor is that going to change any time soon.I know he can't or won't because all of the most meaningful words are said with sarcasm and he knows they're all true.

After a few more minutes of silent seething and the coldest glare I've ever given anyone, one that could make hell freeze over, the grip around me loosens and I manage to break free of…I turn around and notice that its Hotch who held me back and he's giving me a look between angry and understanding; the classic parent look when their child or children did something disappointing…like, very disappointing. Is he a parent himself?

'_Well,' _I think to myself as I move over to the farthest corner of the room possible and attempt to blend into the wall, '_at least I managed not to say something too stupid and risky. Like the time when he…'_ my thoughts trail off right there as I'm caught in that nightmare of a memory once again. When I next look at my dad I notice the 'almost-calm-but-still-pissed-and-looking-for-blood' look he gives. I take a few deep breaths and attempt to calm myself before I next respond.

"Look, I'll never be the perfect son; Hell, I don't believe any one son can be. I'm also not going to apologize nor attempt to fix things, because we'll just end up fighting anyway. Throw me out of the house; go ahead, I won't care." Fortunately, I actually managed to calm down just by breathing, but my mind is still reeling with unopened, full-hearted, oven-heated anger.

Unknowing to my parents and older sister, Quintie told me that I should always spare a quick glance to my dad before turning my back because 'you never know what he'll do when he's pissed'. _If only ceilings could fall in when you want them to. _I sigh as that statement Thort once said pops into my head as if it is one of those cheeky advertisements on websites.

"Okay, fine. If that's the way you see it, _Carson_, then I'm leaving. I'll see you at home." It didn't surprise me how he used my middle name instead of my first, last, or nickname; he always does that when he's angry with me. No, what surprises me is how calm he is; what is he scheming for when I come home—that is, if I ever do so again? He leaves and I realize that Rossi has been gone for about…three minutes now. When did he leave?

**Spence's POV**

I finally catch up with Carter's father and follow him outside where he begins to pace back and forth faster than I can keep up with. When I see him light a cigarette I say, "Six minutes." He turns around and looks at me with a scrutinizing and intense glare.

"What was that?"

"I used to say that when my mom would start to smoke. Every time you smoke a cigarette you lose six minutes off your life. So, I'd say that's six minutes less I get to spend with you." He doesn't say anything for a while and only stares at me before putting out the cigarette and answering me. I know it's no where near relevant, but I need to get his attention without causing too much of a scene.

"You know, you and that boy in there look awfully alike." I'm about to ask who when I remember the same color hair, the same color eyes, and…the same body structure Carter and I share.

"I'm sure it's only a coincidence, sir."

"No, no, I'm sure it's more than that. You both have that smug air about you; that same persona as well, now that I think about it."

"Sir, please; I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Fine, I'm listening."

"How close are you and Carter?" I watch as his body language goes from laid-back to defensive.

"No closer than a father and son would be. Why?"

"How often do you two fight; verbal or physical?" This time he glares at me. Is it because I bluntly and knowingly ignored his question?

"Why do you want to know?"

"It's just a question, sir."

"Not often."

"Has he been distancing himself from you and/or your family?"

"Yeah, all the time. What does this have to do with anything?"

"How long would you say you spend time with him?"

"Only during dinner; what are you getting at?"

"Is there a reason why you two don't get along?"

"I told you, we get along fine." I note how he grounds out this; a sure sign he's getting agitated.

"If that was true, then why does he claim to hate you?"

"I control him too much. I won't let him play with his psycho-sick friends." I stop the questioning there and walk back into the PD wanting to check up on Carter. I also hear him shouting after me asking, "Where in the fuck are you going!?" _Well, I guess that explains the cursing Carter does constantly. Still, why was his father so defensive when I brought Carter up? Something more has to be going on between the two than what he's telling me. I guess my only option would be is to ask Carter._

I walk back into the PD and see my brother calmly talking to Hotch and Morgan. Wasn't he in an interrogation room? I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to see a young girl, no older than nineteen, with ice blue eyes and platinum blonde hair.

"Are you going to lock up my psycho-freak I call a kid brother now?" I turn all the way around and simply narrow my eyes in confusion.

"And your name is…?"

"Francine Clair Hugh."

"Why would you call your brother a freak, Francine?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because he is one."

"How so?"

"Why do _you_ care anyway? He's just a brat."

"_Carter _may have something to do with recent killings and any information might be helpful." I don't understand why, but for some reason I feel anger boiling up inside me and the need to defend Carter.

"So, you know him and the freaks he call friends have something to do with the murders?"

"Well, no, but we have to look at every possibility."

"God, he is such a freak. The other night I caught him with one of my dad's pocket knives carving weird patterns into the headboard of his bed."

"Weird patterns like what?" I watch as Francine flips her blond hair back out of her face and behind her shoulders; a sign she's agitated.

"I can't say for sure, but I have pictures. I have them with me, you want them?" I accept the pictures and thank Francine while she walks off somewhere in the prescient and I consult J.J.

**Carter's POV**

I'm finding it very hard to keep my head level as Hotch and Morgan keep asking me questions that get closer and closer to more personal and sensitive subjects; like familial relations and stuff like that. Of course, me being the emotionless person of this family, I only provide vague responses and keep making attempts to change the subject. Is this the sign of a guilty conscience? Who knows and who cares? All I care about is getting some sleep before tomorrow; if it hasn't already come, that is.

"So, Chase, how much time do you spend with your family?" Morgan asks and I tilt my head to one side thinking this over.

"As a whole or separately," I notice when I ask this Hotch and Morgan share a strange look with each other that I can't describe.

"Either would be alright, Chase." Hotch finally supplies and tilt my head back thinking hard on how to respond without making it seem like I despise my family.

"Well, my dad and I hardly talk and the only time we spend together is at dinner; if I feel like I'm in the mood to come down there. My sister thinks I'm a total freak so I don't talk to her and when I do it's only to say that she's more messed up then I am. As for my mom, well, she's such an airhead that I can say I'm going out with my friends, which my family, particularly my older sister, think are psychos, and she would either not care to stop me or forget all about it. Now then, would you like to ask about my friends? I have some awesome stories of them; really funny ones to." I catch how they notice my expression change from resentful and irked to happy and almost excited.

"Uhm…sure, Chase; that's fine," Morgan says slowly and cautiously as if I'm a total freak. Despite this, I smile and readjust my beanie as I start babbling about my friends.

"So, there's Quintie, the dedicated softy of our group. Then there's Hardy, the rough type of friend that has your back in fights. Cristy is our mother hen and spunky chick; Frankie, our fierce protector who's the stronghold of us. Finally there's me, the counselor and listener of our tight-knit family."

"Okay, so what are the stories you want to tell us, Chase?" I take a minute to think about a really funny story and finally find one; the incident that Quintie had with Cristy's too-sweet, grey tabby cat, Aubrey.

"Well, we all went over to Cristy's place after school on Friday to spend the weekend since her parents were out. Everything was going alright until Aubrey happened to come along and notice Quintie's ponytail……" I go on for a full five minutes before Spence interrupts me.

"Chase, why don't you like your father or vice versa?" I sigh tiredly trying to fight off my frustration. I don't give a fuck about the bastard. I believe I'll just crash at Quintie's place for the night or otherwise, there will sure hell to pay.

"I don't know; he and I just never got along." I give a half shrug and tilt my head to the side before coming to a realization. "Well, I guess there's more to it then that. I really don't get along with him because he and I are two completely different people. I'm a mischief-causing, fun-loving teen and he's a strict and proper person. He doesn't approve of the way I dress, either. He wears his business suites; I wear my torn pants, graphic tee, gloves, and beanie. He dresses up in light colors, I dress up in dark colors; I like music and art, he loves sports and business." I notice how Morgan, Spence, and Hotch look at me oddly. Is it because I don't sound bitter or agitated about him or is it about something else?

"What kind of music do you listen too that your dad doesn't like?" Morgan asks and I smile happily. If there's anything in the world I love more then my friends and soda, its music.

"Oh, good question; I listen to all kinds of things; country, emo, rock, techno, heavy metal, a little bit of rap, almost all types except R&B. Did you know I have my own band too? We're called the Trinity Vascos' and we're complete Christian-Goths! Our band's real close and Quintie came up with it in the first place. Oh yea, I like Christian music too. I don't go to church often or read a bible; too busy with school and music." I continue on despite my brain telling me to shut up now.

"Besides, I believe as long as you believe in Him, that's enough. Yeah, and my dad doesn't like any form of art or creativity. That's why I usually crash at my friends' places and we come up with new songs and just hang out listening to our favorite bands and such. Really fun times; their parents usually makes us a meal of some sort or we order something out. I consider the band and my friends to be my only caring family. As for the ones I'm with now, well, I think it's obvious, right?" They all nod and I happen to notice the time; three thirty-two am. "Hey Spence, Morgan," they both look at me with questioning glances. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, like what?" Morgan asks and I can almost feel their friendliness.

"Uhm….I'm really tired and I have school tomorrow, but I won't be able to get any sleep at home tonight. Can you drop me off at my friend's place? Please?" They look at Hotch unsurely and he nods while smiling. I can tell by the smiles Spence and Morgan have that Hotch hardly smiles; at all.

**Spencer's POV**

When Morgan and I drop Chase off at Quintie's place I feel a little unsure of our decision. Morgan seems to notice this as he turns around before starting the car back up again.

"What's wrong kid?"

"I don't think its right,"

"What's not right?"

"Not taking Carter back to his parents and letting him spend the night with a friend." Morgan looks thoughtful for a minute as he absent mindedly starts the car.

"Well, look at it this way; with what went on in the PD tonight, I think the least we can do is allow Carter some kind of peace, if only for a while." I nod my head still in thought. _Is it really right to allow Carter to run off from his family; even if it's just for tonight?_

* * *

**Well, how's this chapter? I've been having issues with this chapter because of the way the characters sounded in it. Also, the conversation pieces, as much dialect as there was, were necessary to get my point across about how much Carter can't stand his family and how close the BAU team is. I'm pretty sure Garcia will be in the next chapter, and there will be more Emily and J.J. I really do know where I want to go with this story and I have a really good plot in my head, but it'll require patience from all you alerters and reviewers. Also, thanks for all the encouragement and this story, I can reassure you, is far from over. ^^ **

**So! Last chapter was I made my emotions hyper, but that was because I was drinking lots of mt. dew. And….I like being hyper, you know? It's fun. Anyway, I look forward to your reviews and thanks again for your glorious patience! ^^**

**Next chapter: Enter Quintie and the rest of Carter's friends!!! Oh yea first view of an actual school day for Carter and his pals. And a band revolution! Also, don't miss out on the awesome BAU team as they delve further into Carter's family history and discover some of his darkest secrets! All this and more yet to come!!! **

**Til next time,**

**ferret nin**


	4. SERIOUSLY IMPORTANT

**To all of those waiting and expecting an update, I'm sorry to do this to you. However, this is important. **

IMPORTANT: Fan-fiction is still deleting stories that contain yaoi, yuri,  
lemons, violence, stories based on songs, and any detailed sex  
scenes so…just about every story on the site. Most everyone knows of the  
petition going around. If you haven't signed it, the link is www . change .  
org /petitions/fanfiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net  
Please remove spaces and sign petition so they don't remove mature content  
including fics and accounts. But there is more we can do.  
someones organizing a Black Out Day. On June 23rd(according to GTM timing, so  
that we know we're doing it together), do NOT go onto fan-fiction. Don't read,  
don't review, don't message your friends, don't update. If enough people  
participate, then the site will notice, and will realize we take our stories seriously.

Please spread the word any way you can, in any fandom! And let me know if  
you're going to join. The motto is "Unleash Your Imagination." How can we if  
we're being given a LONG list of what we cannot write?  
June 23rd. Remember it. Please! Fanfiction isn't going down without a  
fight!

**If decides to go through with deleting all the stories that contain such content or have an M rating, several authors, including me, might end up losing their accounts or all of the stories they've worked the hardest on. Please pass this on. will not get away with this!**


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